


The Danger of Feeling

by TheGreatGodApollo



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots in Love, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, One shot?, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatGodApollo/pseuds/TheGreatGodApollo
Summary: “You can’t keep putting yourself in danger like that!”Jaskier was fuming, aggressively rubbing salve over the deep cut in Geralt’s forearm. Geralt had told the bard it didn’t hurt much, mostly so he would quit his annoying fussing.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 70





	The Danger of Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Would you guys want to see this, but in Jaskier’s POV?? Thanks so much for reading! Please comment constructive criticism and if you liked be sure too leave kudos!! ❤️❤️

“You can’t keep putting yourself in danger like that!”

Jaskier was fuming, aggressively rubbing salve over the deep cut in Geralt’s forearm. Geralt had told the bard it didn’t hurt much, mostly so he would quit his annoying fussing. Though seemingly it hadn’t stopped Jaskier from scrambling off to tend first-hand to his wound. “That demon thing almost clawed your face off! And you expect me to just _watch_ as you basically plan your own death.”

He wiped his salve off of his slim hands with one of the spare rags, then grabbed a pack of bandages from the sack sitting next to his lute.

“Jaskier, i’m a witcher. I can handle it.”

He glared at Geralt's arm, wrapping the cloth bandages tightly around the wound. “If you had so called, handled it, you wouldn’t have fainted, rather gracefully actually, into my arms after you killed that thing.” Jaskier raised an eyebrow, looking the witcher in the eyes for the first time that evening with his pale blue ones.

“Hmm.” Geralt grunted, returning Jaskier’s intent stare. Jaskiers brow furrowed, and he broke the tense moment, looking down to make the final loop of the cloth before tearing it off gently and placing it neatly back in his sack.

He pushed up and away from Geralt, picking up his lute and moving to the opposite side of their campsite. He plopped down onto his bedroll, and idly strummed a few delicate chords, he could hear Jaskier humming a familiar tune under his breath.

As much as Geralt found the bard insufferable and an idiot half the time, he had a soft spot for him. Almost the way he felt about Ciri, but this feeling was more prominent, a sharp, silver blade in the pit of his stomach that threatened to slice him opened with one wrong move. It was different to how he felt about Yennefer. Yennefer was a powerful but delicate storm, not harmed, even by the strongest blows—

“I’m Sorry.” Geralt said without thinking.

Jaskier _wasn’t_ Yennefer, Yennefer _wasn’t_ Jaskeir, but they were both completely spectacular in ways that he couldn’t even begin to fathom. That fact unsettled him in ways he hated thinking about, the thought that he might like the bard in ways very much out of the boundaries of a friendship.

Geralt shut those thoughts down quickly, not trusting his mind not to dive into those sick fantasies head first.

Jaskier looked up from his lute, his tight expression bathed with softness now, all directed at the witcher. Geralt wasn’t used to that type of kindness, he squirmed, suddenly feeling embarrassed for staring into space for so long. He couldn’t even begin to wonderwhat Jaskier might be thinking of him right now.

“ _My dear Witcher,_ ” Jaskier said, his voice as soft as cotton as he cocked his head to the side and smirked, his bright blue eyes making his face light up beautifully. The ever present dagger in his stomach twisted painfully.

“You are forgiven.” Geralt let out a deep breath, as if he was expecting his bard too never speak too him again. He was about too get lost in his thoughts again, about Yennefer….

“You know Geralt? I could write a perfectly amazing ballet about this right now! Would you like to hear what I'm working on? I know you do.”

Geralt grimaced, but he found himself not to be too upset about Jaskier’s insistent chattering.

Because it was a start.

And he hoped to _Hell_ it wouldn’t be the end.


End file.
